Nothing is Small
by hummergrey
Summary: Think you know the story? The Transformer tales with the fuller added backstory, an ongoing series: First up: SOS Dinobots. Explanations for behavior and actions that made no sense like Prime ordering the Dinobots buried, the Autobots defying his orders and water paralyzing? Megatron slow to act? Huh what! moments. To a great mind nothing is small or ignored, even a single detail.
1. Chapter 1 Creating Dinobots & Disaster

Author's Notes: These are the related adventures behind what you_ think you know_ of events. Kind of like the "Explanations" fic but not movie centered, instead the cartoons and comics. No order to which one chosen. Please set STORY ALERT and FAVORITE to track this one as most will be multiple chapters per show chosen.

:: Internal comms between specific bots or groups not audibly heard by anyone or anybot else. May be encrypted or hackable ::

All rights owned by Hasbro, Rhino and whoever else their lawyers signed up with paperwork.

**S.O.S. DINOBOTS**

**Season 1 episode 7. October 27, 1984**

**Part One**

**The Ark, Autobot base – Mt St Hilary, Oregon State**

"A plan within a plan within a plan."

Prowl's palm swipe over the datapad screen paused the scrolling supply requests. The black and white armored officer could correlate no obvious reference Prime made while staring with narrowed optics at the nearest blank wall. One of the few in the Ark's command center, Teletran One being the dominant centerpiece. Personally Prowl missed the forward split view screens and the view of space, brief their journey had been from Cybertron but it remained a treasured memory. Craggy earth rocks jutted in instead, another reminder of the alien nature of the organic world. The Vanguard class starship served as their home and war base in the fight for earth, Cybertron dark and nearly abandoned by both sides. The multiple level ship would never fly, the engines smashed beyond repair in the crash landing. But it served its purpose beyond its design. Prowl waited until the silence became uncomfortable if he was missing an expected response.

"Were you talking to me sir?"

Focusing on his Second in Command instead of the wall, Prime's deep blue optics widened. "Not directly. Megatron has not appeared on the grid since our last encounter. I fear what he may be planning."

"Off sulking you mean. We kicked Decepticon aft on Cybertron and brought back the part needed to save ya. Then you accepted Megatron's challenge to kick his aft. Did a right good job of it too," Ironhide interrupted, pausing at his workstation. Ratchet and Wheeljack moved closer, laying their data pads on the main worktable to join the discussion. The inventor's sidebars flashed soft green in agreement with Ironhide, locking down the memory of the fear they would lose their friend until the desperate space bridge jump to his old lab.

"Prime is right. Silence indicates trouble, like plotting twins," Ratchet commented thoughtfully. His red and white armored build matched Ironhide's being of similar frame and alt mode.

"I heard that. I am standing, or rather working right here you know," Sideswipe's tone held a note of teasing. His red armored legs jutted out of the far console, tools and wiring nearby next to the removed access panels. The rest of him remained inside the unit, flashes of light sparking with his welding.

"I believe…." Whatever Prime intended was interrupted by the first tremor. The light rippling feeling traveled across the floor, the data pads tapping on the consoles as they braced. The shaking increased with lights flickering and dull rumbling sounds spiking until floor plates literally rocked underneath them. Battle computer's powered online, subspace fields activated automatically as their sparks sped up. The two furthest data pads slid, tipping over the table edge to land with a resounding metal clang as the shaking tapered off.

"Ah hate this. Tremors and not trusting this planet's core. Too active if you ask me," Ironhide complained, bending down and scooping the two data pads up.

::All mechs report in. Zone check authorized immediately:: Red Alert's comm carried high priority across their relays.

"Does he have to do that every time to verify if there is a bolt out of place?" Ratchet rolled his optics, frowning at the data pads clattered down. "Easy Ironhide. We need those." Wheeljack and Sideswipe ignored both mechs, checking in their active status and no damage apparent.

"Zone checks are good practice for catching safety issues," Prime stated, smiling fondly. "These tremors remind me of rolling across Cybertron's highest flex bridges and feeling the surface dip and move under you."

"Or being on an itchy Cityformer. Mechs never stay still as we rolled or walked over their expansion joints," Ironhide grumped, tapping the floor with a footpad for soundness. The metal pinged under his metal pad, a solid sound and secure.

"You guys feel that?" Spike ran in, the yellow hardhat in place on his head. The young human male wore his usual jeans and yellow work shirt, the hardhat a requirement around most of the Transformers and especially the past week with the increasing tremors.

"Kind of hard to miss," Wheeljack greeted the human before venting as the floor rippled again.

"If you ask me, the Decepticons are behind these shakeups Optimus Prime. You know how that junk punk Rumble likes to make earthquakes," Ironhide grumbled, bracing. Sideswipe slid out from underneath the console and approached, the Transformers instinctively moving together for reassurance as teammates, on the battlefield or off. Spike walked around, listening for the deeper bass tones of the rumblings.

::Tremor strength confirmed directly north of us, beyond the rock wall:: Wheeljack noted, intent on the readings. His sidebars barely flashed blue green with his intense focus on the volcano's embedded sensors.

Prowl logged the corresponding data, forwarding it to the general log, splitting his attention between work entries and the wandering human under ped. Any sign of collapse or shifting within the room and he would grab the fragile human and shield him.

::At least Spike is attempting to use his senses to detect danger. More than most humans:: Ratchet sent. He recorded the heightened brain activity within the young man and faster pulse, perspiration and breathing while searching.

::They are a young race and have much to learn:: Prime counseled.

::And their senses are pitifully weak. Ah got more in my left hand than their whole body. Any bot going to tell him that wall is solid or let him walk into it? :: Ironhide added as Spike pressed against the stony surface.

::Figured out where at least:: Wheelajck reacted to Spike's excited comment when discovering what they knew.

::Let's humor him:: Ironhide stated, the main arm panel on his right arm popping up. He noted Spike's approving smile as the mini dish transformed out with the answering data flowing across his simulated windscreen mirroring Teletran's display.

"If Decepticons are burrowing behind that rock, my sonar-a-dar sensors will sniff them out. No Decept-a-creeps but there is something weird in there."

::You actually found something?:: Wheeljack challenged, his surprised look hid beneath his facemask.

::Ah ain't lying. Organic material transmitting like rock and unusual shaped pieces. Worth checking out:: Ironhide displayed the image of a dinosaur skeleton.

::I concur. We will excavate:: Prime agreed and authorized.

::But keep the mess to a minimum. Sideswipe and I have spent joors repairing the consoles in here including Teletran:: Ratchet added.

Twenty minutes later, another split appeared in the rock barrier with Sideswipe's relentless hammering cracking the weakened vein. ::I haven't done this type work since I left the mines:: Sideswipe sent, not bothering to try and shout to be heard.

::I thought you twins were gladiators at Kaon:: Brawn quizzed, the rumbling of his gears increasing as his dual engines engaged to heave a boulder twice his size to the side effortlessly. A mini bot experienced with manual labor in construction projects, the green and brown armored mech matched the other's strength plus.

::Miners first, like Megatron. Sparked into endless debt owing to the mining high family of our district. As third framers, we wanted more than to offline in metal fall. Only other option for bots our low class was the battle dome. Our twin spark link helped but we earned our skill in the fighting pits and erased our debts to buy our freedom. We left Kaon for better opportunities to find peace, unlike Megatron and his army to start the war. Sunstreaker wanted to be a graphics artist and I wrote holodeck fiction adventures. Then Prowl and Jazz recruited us for the Autobot side as front line battlers after a night of high grade adventures through a Decepticon base camp :: Sideswipe answered. Arm pistons pumping, the rock's solid surface fractured cracking apart under his relentless pounding.

::I would love to hear that story another time. My clan family did the prep and post work. Blasted the metal cores deep inside Cybertron's surfaces or removed old surface structures. During the prewar years, more building than destroying meant a huge need for new metal plating. My choices were either demolitions expert or make endless trips down and back to the surface loaders guiding the metal carriers:: Brawn

::You were never worried about becoming flying bits and wires working with powerful mixes?:: Sideswipe

::My work was either right or I would be in so many pieces I would never care or know I screwed up until crossing into the Well of Sparks:: Brawn

:: Point. Breakthrough! Widen it enough for Prime to fit and let's see what we got in here:: Sideswipe sent. Minutes later, he stared around the enormous stone cavern in amazement. ::It's as large as our old mine tunnels. Planet made::

::It is amazing:: Wheeljack noted, following Prime and the others inside. Ironhide led the way as front point as Spike and Prime walked alongside over the rocky uneven surface. Wheeljack followed them, his pace slower as he took multiple scan readings throughout the huge space. Sideswipe and Brawn took outer flank positions, armor shifting to draw in cooling air to hard worked frames. The disrupted ground appeared to have cooled rapidly eons before, sealing the bones into solid rock with the hardened stone muffling the sounds of their steps without any dust to stir up. They passed a triple pointed skeleton frame half sunk to its height in solid rock. Beyond it lay the partially concealed bone alignment of a brontosaurus, the rib bones large enough for smaller Transformers to walk under.

"Dinosaurs. Animals that ruled earth millions of years ago," Spike identified.

::Ark crash into the Volcano wiped the creatures offline. Never had time to react before the impact wave struck:: Wheeljack theorized, picking up another bone fragment.

::Like us with one of your lab explosions:: Ratchet teased, long use to putting the inventor back together.

::I do not find that humorous:: Wheelajck

::Humerus to me:: Ratchet quipped, pointing at the bone. ::The bone? Humerus? A play on words for the human arm bone? Never mind::

::Hardee har har medic :: Wheeljack

Jazz peered at the large bone shapes, the T-rex head alone nearly his entire frame height. The blue flaring of his visor the only indicator of his artistic subfiles activating, trying to figure out what had that as an underneath framing. Not one square or straight line present on the skull as he expected, the teeth jagged and foreign to the metal spy. "Dinosaurs eh? They must have been ugly suckers."

"I would like to know more about them," Wheeljack announced.

"As would I," Prime agreed. "Perhaps Spike would continue our dinosaur education."

::What education? He said they were animals and former rulers. Ain't that enough? :: Ironhide challenged over the comms least he insult the boy.

::Rulers like Quintessons or Allspark Temple code readers? All ancient history and little bearing on our existence now:: Sideswipe

::We can do more research ourselves in one joor than a lifetime of the human species learning:: Brawn

::Human world, human history. And no more research ourselves ! Not after our attempts garnered those vivid research errors! :: Prime shuddered, repressing certain images.

::Not errors, more detail on organics than you could handle. And I never authorized mating rituals, live births or eating practices worldwide before any of you complain. You found those on your own trying to surf the human internet:: Ratchet reminded.

::I'm interested, in the dinosaurs that is. Let me accompany the boy and I can retrieve the data:: Hound offered, wanting to experience more earth culture.

::Agreed. Accompany as Guardian and bring back pertinent detail :: Prime ordered.

::Right away Prime:: Hound saluted, locking in scans of the bones to learn more about those specific cavern remains.

**Great Falls – Between the Cascade Locks Area and Multnomah Falls, The Gorge, Oregon state**

Gasps of wonder disappeared under the rushing water sounds of the Great Falls, the human made waterfall falling over the precipice into the locks area below. The dam edged between the rocky cliff and the immense water shape, perched on the edge with rebar and concrete shoring. Built to withstand years of hammering pressure, the design fitted the protected wildlife area with minimum human impact. The energy supplied not only the Gorge area but up the power lines to the vast city scape of Portland, Oregon. The endless power demand by the growing metropolis requiring around the clock staff to maintain the dam's generators with the latest technologic equipment. The sturdiness of the dam viewing platform gave the human family the opportunity to feel the mist on their faces and marvel at the sheer amount of water gushing past. The human boy of about nine years old stood between his parents, behaving for the promise of a giant ice cream cone at the Cascade Locks fast food hut.

Below the concrete viewing platform, the large blue metal disc attached to the rocks recorded every word of the dad's teaching on electricity. The expansion cable, if they had followed it down linked into a giant size blue tape recorder. The device, unusual in size would have offlined any human instantly if challenged or neared. Perched on the rocks, Soundwave kept his alt mode shields tight lest any of the water get into his simulated cassette deck. Last thing the torture specialist and information officer needed was his cassettes grumbling about moisture, more than they already were.

::How long are we going to spark sit this tub drain?:: Rumble

:: Data required. Multiple operational fields:: Soundwave sent back to his hidden cassette, tracking Laserbeak's signal as the winged cassette soared above.

::Multi fields of what? Misery? Let's attack and tear the place apart. Make cubes and leave:: Frenzy

::Negative. Planning and stealth required. Lord Megatron ordered:: Soundwave

::Does that mean going home to Cybertron soon? Our ship is underwater, I miss flying over metal:: Buzzsaw

::We suffered enough building around the sunken Nemesis after the crash. No more water:: Ravage

Laserbeak analyzed the last stone sample, the hole drilled precisely with his laser optics. The final information requested on the surrounding land gathered and analyzed.

"Data gathering complete Reflector," Soundwave transformed to his full mech size, towering over the multi sparked Reflector. The large camera transformed apart into three separate mechs, the middle mech with the distinct camera lens on his chest as their sensor scans finished. The mechs were anxious to leave and report back to Megatron. Their specialty skill set for data collection kept them useful to a waring army and away from scientists and lab experimentation on their shared spark. Protection by Megatron over the vorns meant more than any amount of energon payment or offered command position to the rare trio, even from Shockwave or Starscream. And Megatron would be pleased with what they had discovered. Taking flight, they flew towards their hidden base with jammers on full. Only human eyes could see them and the few who did were invariably killed or their stories ignored as fabricated tales without proof as the Decepticons never flew the same route twice.

**The Ark, Autobot base – Mt St Hilary, Oregon State**

"And?" Prime prompted, welcoming Hound and Spike back as the others gathered closer to hear.

"The museum was exciting. Never been to one before. Like a three-dimensional learning room in our second frame schools. And my entry fee was discounted. Apparently my age made me a senior. Half price daytime," Hound answered, warming up his holographic generator to cover the Command Center and immerse them in the images.

"Any trigger warnings we need to know about?" Ratchet prompted, having dealt with enough processor aches and problems in med bay already.

"None. I promise no dinosaur eating dinosaur holos even if the T-Rex is a walking fang factory," Hound chuckled, confirming the scans of the Brontosaurus, Tyrannosaurus Rex and Triceratops ready and life sized.

"Very impressive," Prime noted as the holo shapes formed around them. The large flesh creatures paled before even the Guardian mechs back on Cybertron but for organics, they were impressive compared to the modern-day humans and their pets of cats or dogs. The holographic four legged Brontosaurs moved into the water, its long neck and head clear as it swam across.

::Oh no:: Ironhide groaned, deep venting.

::What?:: Prime prodded, glancing down at his Weapons Specialist.

::Wheeljack. He's got that look. He is processing and that ain't good:: Ironhide

::Hear him out:: Prime

Wheeljack began explaining an idea of robot dinosaurs, able to challenge the Decepticons. And Ratchet agreed, bringing reason to the plan. "If it is okay with Optimus Prime."

"They might be useful," Prime pondered, watching the Triceratops fighting the taller T-Rex. Battle simulations ran, gauging the fight between the triple horned beast and the taller fanged animal. 'Not too different than some of our fights,' he realized. 'Weapons, armored enhancements and size differentials. I can imagine Megatron being cornered by them. Might teach him humility being trampled under ped.'

The Autobot civilian inventor and Chief Medical Officer waited, needing official authorization. They received it, with the conditions on every bot being a volunteer to help build and work on the parts and not ordered. Official duties were still required of the mechs and any attack by Megatron or the Decepticons took precedence. 'What are we getting into?' Prime wondered then dismissed it. Ratchet was the steadying force on Wheeljack and with so many mechs involved it might work well enough to save their sparks and be the help needed.

Days later Prime checked off another update, impressed the Dinobots presentation date remained unchanged from original estimates. Decks below in his workshop, the presentation date was foremost in Wheeljack's processing and feelings of pressure.

::What now?:: Wheeljack snapped, his irritation affecting his vocal tones as he answered the incoming communication ping.

Standing in med bay, Ratchet could imagine the inventor standing in his lab, welder in hand and his sidebars flashing an angry red color. :: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are both on punishment detail cleaning the med bay tonight. Do you have a backup for the drilling welds?::

::Oh. I processed you were Brawn or the other mini bots asking more directions. I sent them the plans for Grimlock's chest and arms, and they keep triple checking every sizing dimension as if the arms are too small and the chest plating too big! I am behind schedule on making the brain processors:: Wheeljack

::You are keeping the brain controls small as agreed?:: Ratchet

::Yes. Working on the spark spires delayed me more than:: Wheeljack

::What? Spark spires? These are front line drones not mechs. Did Prime or Prowl approve this? Where are we getting three sparks? And the Dinobots would be sparklings not warriors! Have you been self-experimenting again? Did a femme ?:: Ratchet exploded over the comm, rapidly firing questions.

::Easy Ratch. Planning for the future only. Spark chambers deep inside and wired for future use. Save us retro fitting through all that armor:: Wheeljack

::I'll retro you if this goes bad. We have one chance to show our design work. Our reputations are on the line:: Ratchet

::Blame me if it goes bad. Every bot processes I am a failure anyways:: Wheeljack

::Not! And if I ever hear you call yourself a failure again, I am dragging you by your side fins for a deep personality scan Jack! You are the greatest inventor of our generation if not on Cybertron! Lab explosions aside, your work is everywhere throughout this ship and our frame builds and weapons. Anything I can do to help speed the process up?:: Ratchet

::Negative. Three simulated brain processors but each different for personality basics and allowing their fighting styles and movements. Tall and short armed or four legged and helm heavy with three battle points.:: Wheeljack vented deeply, touched by his friend's confidence. :: And Prowl is my choice.::

:: Why would you use him and his logic glitch as the base line?:: Ratchet quizzed.

::No, Prowl for the drilling welds. His precision is almost an art form. I'm using a combination of battle protocols and subroutines to build the Dinobots coding for both physical force and weaponized fighting :: Wheeljack clarified, his weariness straining as the recharge warning beeped for the ninth time. The risk of being tired and missing a critical component was outweighed by the presentation deadline fast approaching in his calculations.

**The Nemesis (Warship crashed underwater) – Decepticon Base, Pacific Ocean**

The satisfaction Megatron felt didn't show except in his vocal tone and choice of words. The silver color armored Kaon Warlord stood tall, feet pads apart and shifted outward to compensate for the heavier weight of the war cannon on his right arm. "I learned from Sherman Dam and the Autobot encounter there. Enslaving the organic world to the Decepticon cause rather than fighting it will give us an advantage. Let Prime and his pathetic excuse for warriors cater to the weakling organics. Playing nice with them while I plan for conquest.'

Starscream, in his bright red and blue color scheme strode into the room followed by his trine mates. Red optics narrowed as the Seeker royal spotted Soundwave and Reflector. Starscream's processing could not be read by Soundwave, the result of a processor surge accident the seeker could never duplicate. 'Not that he has any brilliant plans to discover,' Megatron processed sourly. The Fallen's advice on keeping a second in command always hungry for the top position echoed. The practice kept Megatron alert and taking precautions that would have been ignored otherwise and allowed Prime or another to usurp him. Any true threat to his dictatorship over the Decepticons had been extinguished vorns before. The pathetic way Starscream failed in his plans were amusing enough Megatron kept him, for now.

Soundwave barely nodded, the slight blue helm tilt the only external sign of his team's success. Data flowed between them, metallurgy, geology, electrical engineering, and weaponization into logistical needs and the fledging of a battle plan. Megatron took it, adding his own layers with the confirmation numbers until today, the culmination of hard work.

"A perpetual power source exists," Megatron explained to his troops. Starscream fiddled as he talked, showing disrespect and an anxiousness to battle. 'That seeker never learns. Wanting to crown himself on top without building the underlying pillars drenched in spilled energon from conquered foes.'

"I suppose you devised a brilliant plan for seizing it, eh Leader," Starscream snarked.

His red optics narrowed further as Megatron considered blasting Starscream for his insolence then didn't. He needed the Seekers to keep the Autobots busy when the attacked, keeping the focus on fighting and not Megatron or the next step to their doom. The use of the word 'leader' was not lost on him either. "Affirmative Starscream." Deliberately ignoring all the other's titles, most of them self given and not earned would irritate the Seeker as did the tone Megatron used as though speaking to a youngling. "We attack the falls at once. Decepticons, prepare for conquest."

"What's the plan?"

"That is for me to know and you to carry out your part, if you can," Megatron challenged back. He had used the words 'we attack' as a reminder and the seeker had failed yet again to understand his place.

"I will lead us to glorious victory, rest assured Leader."

"We shall see. To the air!"

Flying to the Dam, Megatron kept his mech form rather than subspace down and be carried as a weapon. 'I wonder if Prime knows how easy he has it with his troops. No wondering if he is about to be attacked, keeping these slaggers in line. Bah, the friction sands off the jagged edges, leaving polished perfection. And at the end of this day, I shall stand triumphant and powerful.'

**The Ark, Autobot base – Mt St Hilary, Oregon State**

Ratchet huffed through his vents, the only outward sign of exasperation. Wheeljack rehearsed his speech for the twentieth time as the last Autobots assembled in a straight line. 'Is this a morning inspection or debut?' he processed. The command room with Teletran One would have worked but Wheeljack had insisted on the rocky cavern where the bones were found as the backdrop for their presentation. The mini bots from Bumblebee to Cliffjumper started the line at the leftmost edge, the mechs in order more by height than anything all the way to Optimus Prime on the right. Unsurprisingly Prowl and Jazz stood midline next to each other, long use to hiding their command ranks during the battles on Cybertron to confuse spark snipers. The twins Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stood side by side letting Ironhide and Trailbreaker guard their Prime, more habit than obeying any orders. Ratchet remembered early conversations and arguments about their overprotectiveness after Prime Sentinel's ship disappeared and Optimus became their last known Prime. "Primus let this work; we need the help.'

"And especially Optimus Prime," Wheeljack continued his speech until even Ratchet got tired of it, mouthing the final words and gesturing at the same time Wheeljack spoke them. "Autobots, meet Dinobots." The lights brightened, revealing their true size and vivid color schemes of red, yellow, silver and grey. The deep blue optics and optical visor on Grimlock remained darkened even as the bright Red Autobot insignias shone in the light. Each mech stood upright in a bi pedal form, their alt form panels in pieces and rotated back. Each faceplate pattern distinct and their stocky frame include hands and block feet, the argument against claws or talons in mech form. 'Let their dinosaur modes be scary, their builds based on us and leader class mechs,' Ratchet had argued, winning against Wheeljack's preferences on that one point. Wheeljack thereby allowed to choose their names, Grimlock, Sludge and Slag.

The other Autobots look impressed by the size and massive armor plating, especially those not directly involved in the Dinobot assembly. The presentation continued, Ratchet kicking himself vorns later for not processing two things quick enough. Confirming their brain programming ready the night before enough for on lining and the wording of his single command to "_Be quick about it,'_ for removing rock debris, weapons fire fitting the 'quick' command.

Jazz and Hound reacted first, their special operations training detecting the threat the quickest as targeting sensors locked onto them after the debris rocks vaporized. Wheeljack's explanation of the Dinobots limited mental functioning capacity was fate's way of emphasizing a point Ratchet processed later. The words had barely been uttered when all pit broke loose. He would remember reaching out to tap Wheeljack to turn around even as his encrypted urgent comm message flared.

::You did remember to designate us as friendlies?:: Ratchet asked.

Slag growled, plodding towards his creators before sweeping upward with his head and catapulting them into the air.

::I might have missed that part:: Wheeljack admitted sheepishly as both mechs hit the metal floor hard and rolled trying to disburse the kinetic energy.

The metal triceratops stopped, processes selecting his next target as the human father and son began panicking. Sludge stomped his hydraulic enhanced foot, the pressure shockwave knocking down the mechs in pairs. The brontosaurus growled but did not directly attack. A downed enemy was below his targeting horizon. Bluestreak fired first to his credit, attempting to protect the mini bots.

Ratchet rolled onto his side, raising up to see disaster. He watched Prime subspace out his ion rifle before he could be warned. 'Don't do that!" Ratchet started to yell as the blast ricocheted off Slag's armor and back into Prime. The CMO winced as Prime flew backwards into the metal wall as though hit by Megatron himself and fell, the rifle dropped. 'Pit! Our protocols are designating the Dinobots as fellow Autobots and we can only use energy weapons in this enclosed space.'

::Could this get any worse?:: Wheeljack sent, holding a cracked arm against his chest plates. He remained half sprawled on the floor, internal compensators spinning from his less than graceful impact and tumbling.

::You had to ask buddy:: Ratchet sent, watching with disbelief as Grimlock headed for the other room and Teletran One, still in his Tyrannosaurs Rex alt mode. Bumblebee and Spike raced behind, trying to interfere. Ratchet heaved up onto his feet pads, feeling his advanced age as he ran after them, his self-repair slow to come online. 'Slagging younglings. If anything happens to them I will never forgive myself.' One look confirmed his fears, Teletran damaged and Bumblebee on his side, stuck in his alt mode. Spike popped up out of the open side window, yelling for help and the medic relaxed marginally.

::Contain the Dinobots! Keep your distance!:: Prime's general command ripped across his relay, the tone angry sounding.

::I'm repairing Teletran One. Call me for major damage:: Ratchet replied, letting the others fight it out. The less he was involved, the better. He and Wheeljack had discussed two ways to stop the Dinobots should they lose control. Teletran One was the quickest and its attempts to counter command the Dinobots had failed. Grimlock's simple brain had registered the stop protocol as an attack and repaid the system with blaster fire. The second needed them outside, the concept of a tar pit to entrap them with advanced Cybertronian energy strips to freeze them in place. The strips remained in place around the Ark entrance, hidden in the ground and utterly useless as the battle raged inside the Ark.

"They must be destroyed!"

Prime's order nearly sent Wheeljack into a spark attack. His mechlings, the Dinobots were going to be scrapped. Locking down the pain, he stumbled to his feet pads while processing rapidly. He raised a hand, blocking Prime from firing again, knowing it would be inconsequential and only serve to further anger the large mech. "Wait! Maybe my magnetic inducer can stop them." The blast calibrated to their exact processing frequency triggered the Dinobots transformation cogs and a temporary reset in their processors.

"I beg you Optimus. Please, don't make me pull the plug on them."

"I'm sorry Wheeljack, The Dinobots must never be activated again. They are too dangerous," Prime countered. His decision as Prime to protect them all offset his friendship with the mech, however often he was called Optimus.

"I challenge your command on open decree," Wheeljack stated, the words creating gasps of shock from the rest. A formal plea to counter a Prime's command had not been requested in vorns and now he risked his status among them for his creations.

"Any challenge requires at least three separate clan heads. I am not sure we have enough mechs to qualify," Prime countered, understanding the reasoning behind the inventor's request without wanting to punish him. They needed him and his inventions and he realized there was a way out of forcing him into exile. "If you fail to present a convincing argument, they Dinobots are to be deactivated as I previously stated, and you retain your status as a civilian inventor and neutral among us. They will be entombed among the bones of those they represent. If the tribunal agrees with you, your work will continue with command oversight and the Dinobots answer for any damages or problems including capital punishment for their own future actions. Is this acceptable?"

"Yes."

"I will represent my clan and high status," Mirage spoke first. The aristocratic blue armored mech materialized into existence before them, having used his invisibility to shield the human Sparkplug and shift him clear.

"I will represent my clan from Praxus." Bluestreak's quiet claim surprised every bot. One of only two survivors of the doomed city, he rarely spoke of it relieving the final attack often in recharge terrors. Prowl laid a comforting hand on his shoulder plates, knowing the pain and feeling proud of the warrior mech for stepping up and volunteering.

"Count me in for Kaon," Jazz chimed, trying to unkink a bent knee plate. Diving to the side he had twisted it in landing, self-repair realigning the cogs but thrumming pain sensors in his lower leg plates.

"Quorum achieved," Prowl announced. As tactician, he predicted the outcome with a ninety percent probability before they even swore the oath before Primus to fairly and equally consider the challenge. Passively watching, he dutifully recorded each step of the proceedings, logging the final vote as two to one against Wheeljack following the final arguments. The outstanding vote not a 'yes' but an 'undecided' via Jazz.

"How does the tribunal find?" Prime asked, returning to the room with Wheelajck. Waiting in the Command Center before the ruined Teletran One as Ratchet continued repairs emphasized the seriousness of the decision.

"Agreement with a Prime's edict, challenge is denied. Ruling stands," Prowl announced.

Wheeljack never spoke or reacted as he watched Prime and the tribunal members push and pull his creations into the cavern. When their weapons raised, he vented hard watching blaster fire dropping the rocks down, sealing the Dinobots inside. The message clear in its symbolism. Destruction to stop their rampage. Not a wall to be unsealed or opened later but buried, forgotten in time as the bones had been until their accidental discovery.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2 Fight at the Great Falls

_Authors Notes_: And the story continues. Reviews are love. Onward to spending time in the sun with friends, going sightseeing, and taking a swim after falling off a cliff? Maybe not a fun day but still survivable.

_Story Notes:_

**:: Internal comms** between specific bots or groups not audibly heard by anyone or anybot else. May be encrypted or hackable** ::**

All rights owned by Hasbro, Rhino and whoever else their lawyers signed up with paperwork.

**S.O.S. DINOBOTS**

**Season 1 episode 7. October 27, 1984**

**Part Two**

**Great Falls – Between the Cascade Locks Area and Multnomah Falls, The Gorge, Oregon state**

"Any idea what's for lunch?"

The cheerful question was met by silence before the other man relented, chuckling. The two uniformed guards paused by the hand railing without touching it, the metal slicked with moisture. Nearby, the cement walkway and buildings coating protected the concrete from the relentless buildup while creating sparkling drops in the bright sun. "Just because my rank is Captain," the dark-haired man pointed at the patch over his chest pocket. "Does not mean I know everything. The menu is posted weekly by the cafeteria door."

"I never pay attention to mundane stuff like that. Too awed by the natural beauty here, and the pretty new receptionist. I plan to ask her out on Friday to the movies. If she says no, then offer a lunch date. Or drop by at break time and start up a conversation and wow her with my personality," the other man answered, wiping at the moisture across his face.

"Read the menu. It's lasagna, Caesar salad and garlic bread. And while you're at it, read the policy on sexual harassment and interdepartmental activities. Never date a coworker, a good practice to follow but not official policy. If things go bad your work life can become heck on earth or cost you the job," the Captain stated firmly, settling his cap tighter. The bright red dot of their security and loss protection company logo the only marking on the tan cap. The tan uniform shirt and pants were military styled with a tie. The bright blue tie served a purpose rarely mentioned, detecting radiation and changing to red as a requirement around all government work sites. The M16 rifles strung over their shoulders while patrolling the strategic buildings would need drying off later, stored away when mixing with the visiting guest in the public access areas.

Completing the patrol of the walkways, the duo approached the other team waiting at the far corner. "Bet Barnes asks what's for lunch too," the Captain joked before a high whistling noise caught his attention. The descending scream sound of jet engines had him turning as a massively wide shadow blocked out the sun. "Too low unless crashing,' he thought then froze, blinking as the four shapes in the sky registered. Their names he didn't know except one. Megatron.

The guards exchanged a panicked look, realizing their rifles could stop human protesters but have little or no effect on those metal beings. "Above our heads and pay grade. The Dam is replaceable and insured, we are not. Pull the fire alarm, get everyone clear," the Captain ordered.

::Thundercracker, chasing fire only:: Megatron ordered. Plan calculations allowed for human casualties but not a requirement, needing workers for the start of the plan. He landed silently, his flying technology lowering him with precision onto the cement walkways.

::No offlining?:: Thundercracker's targeting systems alternated between locking on the human weapons and their path or higher power to leave a small crater and char mark.

::Let them carry the tale of our conquest:: Starscream interrupted, more striking a pose than hovering into place alongside Soundwave.

::Bait to ensure Prime leads and prevent his noble warriors from a full out assault least they hurt their precious fleshlings:: Megatron explained, suppressing a grimace as Starscream nulled the external generators as though stopping Iacon's grand shields. The larger generators cycled down, their high-pitched noise disappearing. 'Wasted effort. Plan proceeding as expected.'

"_Phase one: Capture the Dam construct at Great Falls."_

"_Complete. Falls not 'great', research human use of word."_

"_Phase Two: Preparation of offensives for Autobot arrival."_

"_In progress, 15% complete with current warriors. Ongoing variables assessed."_

"_Phase Three: Energon cube production on half the generators."_

"_Preparation stage. Supplies in subspace and ready for distribution."_

"_Phase Four: Elimination of enemy foes."_

"_Pending for vorns. Starscream's current status?"_

The ancient mech paused, not wanting to calculate how many times the annoying seeker had been on the foes list then removed for his science or battle acuity to be added again.

"_Including Starscream if he fails me yet again."_

"Communications jammed. Decoy signal ready Lord Megatron," Soundwave intoned, recalling Ravage out of the human's area, automatically checking his cassette remained intact after crashing through metal bars and glass. Small debris of the human world invariably found the way into Soundwave's parts when the cassettes returned. The humans primitive communications unit smoking and burning as the men working it fled.

"I Megatron declare this facility Decepticon domain."

"Until the Autobots arrive Leader. Your plans couldn't save Kaon, Praxus or Iacon for the Decepticon cause, why will this be any different?" Starscream countered softly, standing closest to the main entrance and away from the waterfall and his cannon carrying leader. The four seekers on the mission took defensive positions.

"Capture complete. Lay out the power cabling, activate the nanite cannisters and begin cube production. Rumble, attend to me. Your assistance is required," Megatron ordered.

"I get to drop this place after all?"

"Negative. We need its energy. Process bigger and more precise."

"Bigger would be Prime but that could never happen," the small cassette stated.

"I disagree. Listen and learn," Megatron countered.

**The Ark, Autobot base – Mt St Hilary, Oregon **

"Can you confirm if it's the Decepticons?" Optimus Prime stood in the Command Center, facing away from Ratchet and across the room physically. The medic's swearing and occasionally thrown charred part meant keeping a distance. Ratchet was as angry with himself over the failure of the Dinobots as being frustrated with repairing Teletran again, a volatile mix.

"The energy signature is warped but Cybertronian based. I need to get closer to confirm Cons and not more stolen technology in human hands but that puts me in weapons range," Hound's voice echoed over the communicator, his cheerful tone wrapped in sounds of racing winds and revving engine sounds. The signal lag nearly two seconds long, earth lacking Cybertron's advanced relays and their own systems use to relying on Teletrans and other communications enhancers.

"Orders stand. Do not engage or be discovered. I await your report."

"Understood. Hound out."

"Hey!" Instinctively lunging to the side, the large mech frowned even though the expression remained hid behind his battle mask. The ragged metal component, wires and all slid across the floor with scraping sounds to impact with the nearby wall. A piece large enough Prime could have snow sledded on slung across the room as easily as dropping a datapad onto a table. The metal piece an example of the Ratchet's great frame strength, often hidden.

"All five power transistors are intact and the interchange crystals but not the conduit tubing. Teletran 2 parts can be gutted. This part, that section," Ratchet's bright blue optics dimmed as he focused on design and overlays.

Prime listened, not interrupting. Teletran Two would have been the full working backup, its need demonstrated by the day's events too acutely. And dedicated to long-range outer space signal searching, to reach those still scattered across the stars. A faint pain echoed through his spark at the memory of his missing spark mate, Elita One. His processing trailed off wondering how many mechs or femmes offlined while he and his crew were dormant in the Ark. A silver shape neared, self-preservation protocols charging his rifle as he ducked.

"No moping you! Wheeljack's doing enough for us all, locked in his lab and blocking even my comm calls," Ratchet ordered, holding a handful of wrenches. Standing on his feet, the white and red armored med threatened to throw another wrench.

"I was reviewing personnel lists," Prime calmly stated, the rifle safeties engaging back.

"Mission? Check. Not enough frames to fill the mission without being target practice? Check. Repair everything and every bot around here, always!" Ratchet snarked, kneeling to reach around the power crystals and continue working.

**Cascade Locks Area and Multnomah Falls, The Gorge, Oregon state**

"Are you sure we can't be seen?" Spike asked. Bracing one hand on the dash, he leaned into the wild ride around the curves and hills as Hound raced. The wind whipping his hair smelled clean and felt warm in the bright sun.

"You doubt my skills as a scout? I am Special Operations certified and seekers never detect me. Not on Cybertron or earth. Hold tight, road is washed out ahead," The red glowing button on Hound's dash seemed to deepen more towards purple with his words. The steering wheel turned matching wheel movement, an unnecessary effect the Transformers kept as part of their disguises. The gear shift remained centered in neutral, the setting not existing on Cybertron and the power of their engines beyond human numbering for shift levels. The communications button for Spike's benefit and a quick read visually by any medic if darkened.

"I meant seen by Optimus. I left my helmet in my locker and Prowl's rules require shoulder belts while riding. And obeying speed limits." Tennis shoes and a tan colored shirt replaced his normal working clothes, his appearance less conspicuous while enjoying a chance to scout around.

"I can slow down if you are worried. Satellite links ensure the road ahead is clear of human traffic and I won't tell Prowl if you don't," Hound's voice held a tone of teasing. "Hold it, I am picking up more electronic signals. Could be Decepticons."

"Or campers. Last false signal was Park Rangers training in the trees. And 'could be Decepticons,' is a phrase you guys use a lot to start sentences."

"Or a new adventure. Fight an enemy for thousands of vorns and you learn to expect their sneakiness everywhere."

**The Ark, Autobot base – Mt St Hilary, Oregon State**

"Hound, calling Optimus Prime. Enemy sighted."

Prime nodded, the top left helm bar sliding out to boost range. Without looking, he automatically reached back to grab his ion rifle with his focus remaining on the signal. "Understood, we will meet you at the falls in eight thousand astro seconds." Logically he knew they had to roll to the dam, meaning their alt modes and weapons secured. But the comforting feel of his ion rifle, fingers curled around the trigger and ready to fire soothed battle impulses active from the Dinobot fight. A click released all the rifle settings for battle, rare for him but it felt right. The Matrix under his chest panels hummed, wanting attention. Focusing, he felt its warning. Events were in motion that could affect more than him or his troops. What was coming could affect Cyberton itself.

"_How?"_ He prodded, use to the implement of the Primes being vague.

Ancient language glyphs flowed across his vision. _"Power," "Team" "Trouble"_ and "_Accept."_

"Not very helpful," Prime noted, feeling the Matrix settle to dormancy.

"And?" Ratchet prodded, looking up expectantly at Prime. The medic recognized the increased power flare of the Matrix, with medical protocols set to check Prime as his very spark could ebb while communicating with it.

"Power, team, trouble and accept."

"Remind me why the Matrix is considered the source of wisdom? Sounds like a random collection of words for a human writing contest."

"It will light our darkest hour."

"Your problem, not mine. Finishing Teletran One is. Report any injuries and haul the peices back here," Ratchet returned to repairs, sparks dancing from his micro welder across another bent metal piece. Prime's life signs remained in operating range and Primus willing would stay that way for as long as Ratchet functioned.

Prime carefully prodded at the Matrix again, seeking more. He felt its warmth of acknowledgement only. It recognized him, approved of him carrying it and would reveal more when and ever if it wanted to. Deep venting, he shuttered his optics and recognized multiple energy signatures nearby. Turning his helm to the right, he twitched as his troops were lined up in a row and he had never heard any of them. Trying to get answers inward, he had lost his focus outward.

Ironhide stood first, having arrived the quickest and always wanting to be closest to Prime to protect him. His red armored form was clean and neatly polished as though they were heading to the Council chambers for a meeting and not a battle. Gears was next and stood at attention patiently, none of his usual comments. Next was Bluestreak looking ready for inspection, weapon in hand then Trailbreaker, Bumblebee, and Sideswipe.

"Autobots, transform. Not you Bumblebee. Stay here and guard headquarters," he added, watching them transform and hiding a soft smile at their youngest. Most transformers had to concentrate between forms shifting least parts misalign. Bumblebee stopped mid shift and returned to standing as casually as sighing.

::Why me?:: Bumblebee pinged across the scout frequency.

::I need you to be the voice of reason with Wheeljack and Ratchet. Both are emotionally compromised and need a bot who can focus beyond the task at hand. I believe you are our best scout and those skills are best served here:: Prime answered, wanting to keep him safe. His injuries had not been repaired and Ratchet labeling them "minor" were still concerning. Any mention of that however and the little yellow bot would bring up surviving Tyger Pax and Prime's own injuries over countless battles. Now as not the time for an argument. Bumblebee would remain safe at the Ark while he confronted Megatron.

"Roll out," Prime transformed, calling his trailer to him. Systems locked, keeping it paired to his frame even to rolling downhill or sliding as one unit, Roller tucked inside mid trailer. The rising battle platform inside charged to readiness and went into standby mode.

::Is this every bot?:: Ironhide sent over the comms. He made a processor note to spend more time with Bumblebee later to make up for being left behind. Bee took his duty seriously, never outgrowing the need to prove himself to those who had raised him.

:: Others will join en route. This may be a diversion or split of the Decepticon forces. Megatron's plans are never what they seem. We will meet with Hound then disburse into teams:: Prime answered, rolling out and leading them. The hall lights flickered as the outer access doors closed, the power draw routed elsewhere in the Ark. Any bot remaining behind should have realized it was not Ratchet's repairs on the downed system. Which left Wheeljack's lab. The inventor continued tooling the third processor panel base, the drone machinery behind him making components as fast as the metals cooled.

**Cascade Locks Area and Multnomah Falls, The Gorge, Oregon state**

Megatron, Dark Lord and Leader of the Decepticons stood before the falls as Frenzy processed another batch of energon cubes nearby. Only twelve cubes were stacked by the cassette warrior, and he bet his Second in Command would never notice the pile should have been tripled for the time allowed. 'Hiding inside from getting his precious wings damp and watching the others draw power to make the cubes instead of doing. Now he disturbs my peace.' Red optics cycled back, the scans confirming the saturation of the water below. He kept his back turned, an insult in the old ways to the other's rank and titles. "Endless energy Starscream."

"Unless we are interrupted by the Autobots."

Megatron vented softly, steps ahead in his plan and confident. "As usual, you underestimate me Starscream. I have already devised a warm reception for our foes. If they should be foolish enough to interfere."

Frowning, the Seeker pondered his wording. 'Warm' meant weaponry and he tracked all computer simulations and designs at their base. Nothing new had popped up on the screens for some time. And the word 'interfere' meant confidence the plan would succeed. What was Megatron up to?

Several breems later, Starscream had his answer. His initial judgment of the plan notched quickly higher. The instruction to herd the Autobots together by flying close in mech modes without full attack seemed odd. Their grouping was their strength. To defeat a bot, you had to separate them. They knew team fighting all too well. And the command to keep their focus upward, flying by in strafe runs made no sense. The cliff they fought on balanced between the falls and river and limited the option to use their alt modes except down the narrow one lane road. Up for down made no difference. Prime's trailer remained parked a short distance away by roadside boulders, the automated weapons a calculated risk with the dam nearby. A single blast could miss a target, impacting the area with disastrous results.

Gears soared up, the red and blue armored mini bot firing until a blast from Soundwave's rifle. At quarter power, the charge carried enough force to knock the bot down to the ground without critically injuring him. Megatron's orders were resolute. No offlining yet, even if they had a chance.

::Starscream do not land!::

The order snapped across his relays, sending the Seeker back up into the air instead of landing behind Trailbreaker to take his spark.

::Why? I had him in my sights!:: Starscream argued, the perfect alignment lost as Sideswipe covered his teammate, firing up at the seekers.

::The dirt is laced with nanites. You would be infected. Do not disobey me in this or suffer the consequences:: Megatron explained, his red optics practically glowing before striding into the human building and disappearing. He had remained out of the battle, not even verbally sparring with Prime.

::Nanites? For what?:: Thundercracker

::Strategic placement. Follow orders:: Soundwave reminded, confirming Ravage tucked inside with the others and Rumble nearby. The cassette warrior answered back, grumbling about the layered coating on his frame to block the nanites affecting his ramming speeds. ::Necessary. Ready pile driver arms::

::Are we sure these things are going to work? Shockwave ain't here and we are:: Rumble answered, the drill marks from Laserbeak aligned under his rounded enhancements. As bad as he wanted a chance to attack the great Optimus Prime, he knew a slagged off Prime could kick Megatron's aft and had done it. Rumble didn't stand a chance even with Soundwave and all the other cassettes helping.

"Now you will witness the power of my fusion cannon." Megatron tugged the final section of the power cable flat before connecting it to the modified cannon end. Visions of his own exploding arms and battle damage flashed across his optics before being banished ruthlessly. Soundwave and Shockwave were their best scientists and if they said the power outlay would work, it would. He would take their sparks if it didn't.

Prime's blue optics narrowed, seeing the cable. "Upping your power hmm? Been tried before. What are you up to?" The Autobots stood close together, waiting for orders and to duck if fired upon.

"Ready Rumble?"

"Aw slag, not him again," Ironhide grumbled, passing Jazz and Bluestreak to get a clear line of sight to fire. The Praxus mech focused upward, trying to get Thundercracker sighted in the targeting locks of his shoulder weapons. Jazz's visor flaring blue betrayed his focus. A jammed cartridge ejected out to clear his gun began disappearing under brown dust. Moving brown dust that multiplied.

::Big problem boss bot! Nanites under us:: Jazz reported, data flowing across his operations visor.

::I show no signs of system intrusion:: Prime reported back, watching Megatron closely. He should have fired the instant connected to the power cable and had not, even the tip of his cannon remained pointed down. Cracks in the rock began, spreading to open fissures underneath Rumble's power drivers along a marked line. Squatting down, hydraulics shifted in his legs to jump Prime up and clear into the air.

And Megatron fired. Not at them but the cliff edge on which they stood. Firing along another marked line they had seen and ignored believing it to be a human marking. The steady energy disbursed into the rock, shattering it apart and charging the nanites. The micro attackers on lined, the Cybertronian internal systems detecting their presence too late, hidden under their dirt coating.

Externally, the fighters braced as their cliff section tilted sideways, crumbling apart over the rushing river below. Internally they fought the nanites jamming systems and blocking energy relays. Arms wouldn't move, fingers couldn't pull triggers and battle protocols went into standby as orders waited to update, the last motion command to jump or rise in the air frozen. Self-repairs countered, marking the micro intruders for isolation and removal over time they did not have.

::Autobots, move! ::Prime ordered, his rifle arm falling to his side.

::I can't fly. Systems down!:: Ironhide roared, tilting backwards and over, the rocky surface under his feet pads collapsing.

Other Autobots sounded, their calls angry more than fearful. Ironhide hit the water first, sinking deep with the combined weight of Sideswipe and Hound landing practically on him. Mirage splashed to his left, panicking as the upper class mech avoided earth's water at all costs and began to sink, clueless what to do in the flowing river.

_::Teach Mirage to swim:_: Ironhide's immediate processor note was classified to a subroutine holding file.

_::First Priority : Protect Prime:: _

_:: Secondary priority : Self survival:: _

_::Tertiary priority: Kick Con aft:: _

_::Lower Priorities: Upgrade internal drying systems to compensate for water on a planet two thirds water._

_Verify all team members know what to do in earth's varied terrains. _

_Compile three insults to counter Ratchet's repairs later. _

_Spend more time with Bumblebee, lessening danger of this mission in story to him. _

_Priority list to be updated pending survival. Listing program offline in three astro seconds. Two astro seconds. One astro second._

Gears and Sunstreaker splashed in further away, auto systems keeping them afloat as Bluestreak's scream ended in a gurgle as he fell head first with the combined weight of his shoulder rockets making him top heavy.

Even with optics closed Ironhide recognized the mini wave as Prime hit. ::Good thing he left the trailer with Spike:: crossed his processor.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3 Falling, failing and flying

Author's Notes: The third chapter for SOS Dinobots. I am currently debating which episode to do next. Weighing options between 4 different ones, not in any particular season or order. Eventually I will be tackling the three-part episode that began it all but not yet. I need to get more comfortable in this and I still have other stories in progress to add to. Check my profile for more fun reads. Onward to correcting mistakes.

**S.O.S. DINOBOTS**

**Season 1 episode 7. October 27, 1984**

**Part Three **

**Great Falls – Between the Cascade Locks Area and Multnomah Falls, The Gorge, Oregon state**

"I need to call for help, get some help. We really need help here," Spike chanted softly, straining to hear whistling sounds as the Decepticons soared off downriver. Peering cautiously over the rocky top, the immediate area looked clear of metal threats. Dirt encrusted his yellow boots and the knees of his jeans were soiled from kneeling as he rubbed at his palms. The gritty brown dust fell off his skin and clothes to float away in the soft breeze. Sliding down the rocky incline he ran to the back doors of Prime's trailer and pulled. Nothing. The alien silver metal felt warm under his touch with no visible latching mechanism. "Sealed tight! Roller? Can you hear me?" Beeps, whistles and whirring noises echoed from inside.

"I don't understand what you're saying. Can you unlock this door? Or call for help?"

A long mournful sounding warble echoed.

"Means no. Great. Rolling battle platform and no way to open it. Have to talk to Optimus about that." The boy slumped, half sitting on the back bumper with his mind racing. The beautiful area as a national park had no cellphone service and he had seen Soundwave and his cassettes. Their presence meant frequencies jammed or routed elsewhere, including distress signals. Which left him. The single lane road down the cliff wound for miles back to the main gates. Bypassing the river and cutting across land was out with the damaged cliff and the longer he took, the less chance of surviving they all had.

"What would my dad do?" The sounds of clinking rocks scattering snapped Spike around. A bright yellow Volkswagen rolled closer, his engine noise barely audible.

"Bumblebee! Optimus ordered you to stay at headquarters," Spike's greeting to the young warrior made him wince. Could the human have shouted any louder? Decepticons had hearing too. No wonder Soundwave had fooled him into being picked up and carried in his backpack.

"I don't like to disobey. But I had to do something," he admitted. A quick medical scan confirmed no injuries to Spike's fragile body as he opened the driver side door. The gush of air out the pressurized cab carried away the final clothing nanites.

Wheels spinning rapidly, the scout reversed while letting Spike grab the steering wheel. Only the knuckle whitening tightness on the wheel indicating the boy's raised stress level. The scout muffled his external sounds racing away, stealth overlays protecting him from being detected or heard unless alongside his alt mode. The strain on his systems damaging over the long term but necessary.

_:: AUTOBOT FORCES – ENCRYPTED DATA BURST. HELP REQUIRED:: ROLLER, PRIME._

_::ACKNOWLEDGE AND ACCEPT DATA BURST:: B-127_

Roller's message spelled out; the small unit was worried with the sudden lack of contact.

_::ENCRYPTED DATA BURST. INSTRUCTIONS. STAY SAFE:: B-127_

_::RECEIVED AND FOLLOWING. UNTIL ALL ARE ONE__ :: ROLLER, PRIME_

It was possible but not probable the Cons would leave the trailer alone. Previous encounters had taught them it was booby trapped and capable of protecting itself with programmed settings. And Prime considered it _his_. Any damage to it he took personally. If they considered Prime neutralized, even temporarily, Roller was in danger.

Instructions ordered Roller to escape, staying in contact with the trailer unlocked by Bumblebee's command override. If Prime called the trailer to himself, Roller would reenter and go with it. If not, he was to remain hidden nearby in full stealth mode and hopefully safe until rescued. Bee couldn't take him with them, the speeds too fast and the distance too great for the mini lunar explorer. A good symbiote, the unit carried a sliver of a spark spire and essence of Optimus' spark itself. An act by Alpha Trion which Optimus both blessed and cursed. Blessed for the understanding and love the symbiote offered back, cursed for any damage to it he felt as his own pain. And the responsibility of protecting him in battles, firmly refusing to put him in harm's way with weaponry for battling. Bumblebee wanted Roller safe, shying away from the fact that if Optimus offlined, the little explorer unit was all they would have left of him.

"Did you hear what I just said?" A soft tapping on his steering wheel registered. Super speed, he played back the conversation spoken while driving and creating data bursts.

"Yes Spike. Monitoring and making sure we are not followed and no, Optimus would never exile me for this. He helped raise me remember?" The scout reminded.

"Ground you for the rest of your existence then?"

"Ouch. Process I went too far this time?"

"He seemed pretty irritated even after ordering them locked away. I would let him cool down for maybe ten to twenty years before getting on his bad side."

"He doesn't have a bad side. That's why he is Prime. And if we bring back reinforcements, a good fight will help settle him."

"Uh, why are your seats pink?" Spike looked around, seeing his entire interior repainted a soft pink. "Twins prank you again?"

"No."

"Ratchet's temper?"

Soft laughter filled the car interior, the bumpiness of the road hidden under the bouncing movement as his alt mode vibrated. "Welded to the ceiling if that happened. I lost a bet to Mirage. "

"For?" Spike prompted, wondering what the scout had finally gotten wrong.

"I be the Dinobots would work. They didn't. Could have been worse. Mirage bet Gears he couldn't use the word energon for a week. "

"How is that bad?" G-force slid Spike sideways, the seatbelt tightening as they drifted through the curves over twice the posted speed limit.

"Gears oversees supplies next week including the energon reports to Command. His lack of using that word without being able to say why will irritate the others. Especially Ratchet and Jazz."

"A minor detail and sounds like fun. And remind me to call my dad later. He left to town with the supply truck for metal parts before Hound reported back. He probably thinks I am still out scouting."

"Now who is defying their parental mech? He said to be careful and stay out of trouble."

"I am careful. I'm safe with you and I was authorized to be at the Dam," Spike countered. The alt mode rattled, Bumblebee shifting internal gears to bypass another failing cog gear. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Been worse. And Optimus once fought with an arm torn off, stab wounds in his side against Megatron and another leader class mech while dodging automated fire from drones. Building the Dinobots kept every bot so busy I avoided my quarterly joor checkup. Ratchet throwing wrenches for delaying repairs is not high on my priority list. I have a few gaskets blown." Internally, Bumblebee smiled at the acronym, spoken as a general term but not heard as an acronym and a creation of Jazz. G.A.S.K.E.T.S. meaning Gears, Assembly, Sealants, Kaput Even T-Cog Slagged. He focused outward as the conversation resumed.

"You had guts for challenging and saying, 'come get me."

"My exact words were 'Come on Grimlock. Try stepping on a bug."

"More like an ant."

"Ants are bugs. And I like the term. I learned bugs have value. Spiders are skillful in weaving webs of geometric designs to eliminate pests while the intricacy of their work is marveled at by human cultures. And some of the species are deadly for their smaller size and feared. Bumblebees defy the laws of physics with their flight and butterflies are living proof of the galaxies basic rule if there were no changes nothing beautiful could occur. Fire ants and locusts are pests individually and deadly in numbers. Bugs are categorized and studied while surviving everything nature and you humans throw at them, sometimes literally. Children's stories, animated movies and books are written about them. Bugs on earth are necessary and valued, no matter how small their contribution. And he never touched me. It was Teletran's explosion that hit me remember. I should have rolled away faster."

"Why didn't you then?"

"Safety protocols for you inside my cab. The speed I can accelerate to creates whiplash or would snap your neck bones and be fatal. We may look like cars, but we are not limited to that disguise."

"I am learning that. Why didn't you transform after I climbed out?"

"My geo sync balance compensators were offline after rolling over and over in alt mode. The energy to lock around my spark and compensators I redirected into laser restraints around you to prevent injury since you were not wearing a seat belt. Autobots do not have air bags. I did not want to pick your teeth out of my simulated dash or wipe blood off my side windows and seats. I just need a few more astro seconds to reset."

"So, you were dizzy?""

"Not in so many words. And even a human can outrun a tyrannosaurus rex. They are built for brute strength, not speed. Alt mode wheels worked."

"Wait. In those dinosaur movies," Spike began challenging.

"Do you believe everything you see in a movie?"

"Course not."

"Me either."

"Did Cybertron have movies?"

"After a fashion. I can explain later. Right now we need to rescue our friends. Sit back and hold on. Releasing the speed governors on my engine. Mirage and Wheeljack are not the only race cars around." Bumblebee's speedometer rocketed past one hundred miles an hour and climbed steadily as he raced. Heat panels and influx vents were replaceable, his family was not.

**Below the Great Falls and Upriver from Multnomah Falls, The Gorge, Oregon state**

"Why is your energy signature blue with Matrix power?" Megatron rumbled, closing in until his chin plate almost touched Prime's facemask edge. The ancient mech and his followers were chained upright to the rock wall. Their reinforced chains blazed in the bright sun, the light warming down to their struts as the water soaked nanites fell to the ground. Technologically designed for a metallic world, the rushing river and the muddy residue were never factored in as the units failed.

"I should save this image to show to your precious Elita One. Chained up and helpless before my might. As I have imagined you both many a time, begging for mercy under endless torture."

"Leave her out of this. Or else!"

"Was that a threat? The water must have soaked more than your processors brother. You cannot save those chained up on either side of you. I had contemplated ripping them apart as you watched but it's a waste of effort and time. Finish off the lot of you and be done with it. But you," he placed his hand flat over the other's spark armor. "I will rip out the Matrix then your spark to grind it under ped to become the Prime our race should have had. You have interfered for the last time." His fingers tightened, gouges appearing underneath in the red armor.

"Arrggh! What is this!" Arcs of blue power rippled up Megatron's arm, his hand flaring out flat to almost bend backwards on the finger joints. Twitching, the warrior mech regarded his foe with narrowed optics.

"The Matrix rejects you. As it always has and always will," Prime stated.

"No matter," he growled stepping back, the metal on his shaking arm softly clanging. "I can rule without it. It was never about the title or carrying that ancient relic."

"What is it then that drives you? Your ego? Besting me?"

"Power. The absolute power to conquer. None can stand before the technological might we possess to take over the galaxy. I let you live to see my victory over the old ways that kept us enslaved and you form the Autobots. I allow Elita One and her pitiful group of femmes to exist and roam freely and it was not enough. You still defy me, here on earth. I will enslave this organic excuse of a world to gather resources enough to return home and build our war base. Army upon army into space with one purpose. One goal. One glorious destiny. Transformers to rule everything."

"And what of the billions across countless worlds that will die under you?"

"A necessary paradigm. Barren worlds are still examples of what happens when you defy me, even this earth. I will drain it dry. If only one world is left to be ruled under my command it is enough. Starscream!"

"Yes leader?"

"Call the others here. Let them share in my victory as we blast them into oblivion. Make sure Reflector attends. I want him to record this moment for glorious prosperity as my new age of conquest begins."

"At once sire," Starscream acknowledged, backing slowly away. The nearly black color of Megatron's optics and maniacal laugh warning enough.

**The Ark, Autobot base – Mt St Hilary, Oregon State**

Leaning forward to peer out the windshield, Spike nearly cried in relief seeing the orange metal of the Ark. The thudding rapid heartbeat eased while his hands relaxed gripping the seat belt strap. Decepticons had not attacked or chased them down and the Ark appeared undamaged. Desperate audio calls had gone unanswered, neither of them sure if Bumblebee's communications were out or if the Ark had been attacked. They prayed Ratchet and Wheeljack were simply off comm and intent on their work, Teletran repairs incomplete. "Ready to try serious acting like in the movies?"

"Why?" Bumblebee slowed, signaling the outer blast doors to open and let him in.

"Command center records everything. Your report to Ratchet and plea for help will be seen by Prowl and Prime later. Maybe garner a lesser punishment?"

"Might work."

Fifteen minutes later they both stared at the enormous void blasted in the volcanic rock wall. "Talk about dramatics," Bumblebee quipped. Crumbling pieces of lava rock continued falling more slagged than broken via the Dinobots weapons. Sunlight reflected in, contrasting with the dark shadows in the unused space.

"More cartoon fun. Transformer mech shaped holes and they fly away. If they return safely, make this the entrance to their Dino cave," Spike noted.

"Wheelajck is with them, it should go ok. He mentioned trying a new weapon. I need to go help Ratchet subspace more emergency equipment before we drive back."

"Can't we fly? They did."

"Remember me mentioning skipping repairs? My right flight jet is out. And Ratchet rarely flies. The risk of injury is too great. He needs exact system calibrations to repair all of us, not to oppose headwinds or smack and tumble with a failed landing."

**Upriver from the Multnomah Falls, The Gorge, Oregon state**

"Megatron has fallen!"

"No, I cannot be defeated," Megatron processed rapidly, fighting the urge to purge his energon. The weaponized shells fracturing his equilibrium and dropping him to ruin his moment of victory. Helplessly he heard Starscream take command with his collapse. "Usurping my place to fight those monster things, instead of terminating the Autobots. That idiot!" Roaring and rumbling sounds echoed with the fight continuing as he groveled, fighting to balance back up and off his hands and kneepads.

Wheeljack smiled as his creations worked per his design, his helm sidebars flashing deep blue. Megatron was down and disabled, even temporarily. The Dinobots attack was kicking aft and he had a clear path to his chained-up friends. Even he winced as Grimlock bit a wingspan, sounds of compacting metal followed by screams of pain. Stepping around Megatron, the inventor calculated less than a ten percent chance he could offline the Dark Lord himself. Injure or disable yes, punch through enough of the armor with damage to offline, not probable. And every astro second wasted trying meant another astro second for the fighters to hurt his own. "Deal with you later. I have my friends to save."

"I will not be stopped. I will rip those fins from your helm personally!" Raising up, Megatron's frame rattled as the world continuing spinning and dipping around him, system input defying the fact he remained immobile.

_Warning! Reduce flight spinning. Gyro factors need resetting._

_System intrusion noted. Micro inhibitor shells fragments mid riff. Removal required. _

_Equilibrium processors undamaged. Parameters beyond established boundaries. _

_Self-repair operating 100%. Mid plate damage under repair. Estimate time unavailable. _

_Decepticon Combat status: Decreasing rapidly. _

_Starscream: Hull and wing damage. Flight mode limited. _

_Thundercracker: Hull and landing gear damage. Transform locked pending repairs. _

_Rumble: Limited operating ability. Pile driver arms damaged. Unable to attach._

_Skywarp: Multiple punctures left wing and struts, bent plating on frame with collision damage via Soundwave. _

_Soundwave: Collision damage from Skywarp, chest slide cracked and inoperative. Cassettes locked inside. _

_Reflector: Two of three combiner forms damaged. Puncture marks on frames. _

_Partial system reboot. System interlocks online. Weapon transforms active._

"Starscream, get down here! I will transform and show those monsters true power!"

On the ground, Wheeljack blinked once as Megatron soared up, transforming into his weapon's mode. Systems noted the tech involved to transform the leader class mech into a slimline gun then dismissed it, no longer the novelty it had been. "What's this? My friends weapons." Digging into the pile, he felt like rejoicing. The weapons an easy resource and undamaged condition meant his tech had not been hacked to be stolen and duplicated. Their optics widened as he faced his teammates, weapon in each hand.

"Don't worry. Aim is set to wide disburse and help. The combined energy will blast those pesky nanites and reset your energy and self-repair."

Prime smirked, his expression hid as Megatron's blasts flowed across synchronized armor to disburse uselessly. Then it was the Dinobots turn. Their blasts hit hard, severing the mech from Starscream and dropping him. "That's how it feels! Hurts doesn't it!" Prime cheered, feeling sheepish as the others paused grabbing their weapons to look over at his uncharacteristic shout. The unlocked rifle in his hand felt right as he approached the other's downed form. Any sign of resistance and he would take sparks.

"Enough! We must retreat. Retreat!"

"And there they go, up and away like always," Wheeljack stated.

"Pretty shaky flights this time. And bucket head tailing them. No free ride home," Ironhide chuckled.

"Did we win, or they just quit?" Trailbreaker stumbled, his systems setting last. His higher use of energon and interlaced connections for generating his force field requiring more sensors and therefore more to unblock.

"The Dinobots chased them off as we designed them to," Wheeljack noted with pride.

"I also ordered them shut down and the tribunal agreed. I must clarify a few things before we continue," Prime stated firmly.

"Ask away. I will explain if I can."

Ironhide frowned at the inventor's cheerful tone, wanting to hear a crisp 'yes sir' or respectful tone. The scientist's neutral status irked him, his protests falling on deaf audios with Prowl and Jazz. Cleared with full access, he could go anywhere and work on anything with command approval but not their understanding, the tech too advanced or crazy yet sanctioned.

"You obviously upgraded their systems. They talk and carry weapons. Why upgrade their processor chips? I believed we agreed on simple brains."

"Originally but no design ever stops at the test run stage. I first processed simpler would work, to avoid the ethical question of their use. I encrypted the coding with the ability to learn and increase their intelligence as our processors do. I sped it up same as one of our upgrades. They are no longer drones."

"Reactor mess Jack! They do not have sparks!" Ironhide grumbled.

"Neither did we in the beginning. Under the Quintessons our race were slaves then gained sparks. If we have ten Grimlock, fifty Grimlock, or even a hundred Grimlock what are they? Slaves? Drones to be created, dumped and forgotten as our ancestors?"

"Sparks are how we determine life," Mirage reminded.

"Humans don't have a spark," Hound countered, having taken a liking to humans and their planet. He would speak for them. "Even short lived they think and feel and communicate and am alive. Just because they have no glowing power in their organic shells are they drones?"

"No. I begin to see where you are going with this," Prime reasoned. He recalled arguments with Megatron over the same subject. Sparks lost in the mines of Kaon or shattered in the Gladiator Pits for entertainment of the higher class mechs. What made an existence valuable to be considered a life worth protecting and fighting to keep?

"How many alien races have we encountered in our space travels to trade or negotiate with and never considered their lack of sparks making them less, just different?" Bluestreak spoke up, surprising them all.

"If we met the Dinobots as earth mechs, would the situation be different?" Wheeljack continued.

"They would still be dangerous. Why did you program their armor kinetics to block my weapons?" Prime prodded. The dent in his back plate from hitting the wall after the ricochet blast was irritating, dropping his weapon while being caught off guard worse, both embarrassing and dangerous. If Wheeljack had lost his objectivity while knowing all the Autobot systems he became a major tactical risk. A risk to be eliminated or tightly controlled. Exile was not an option for any bot who knew all their secrets intimately.

"I didn't. They're programmed to prevent Megatron from blasting them, absorbing the energy to throw it back. You and he are spark related and your frequencies are very close I admit. Your systems mirror each other with the biggest and best weaponry. I can refine the settings, calibrate for his enhanced cannon while lessening yours. Doable with some tinkering, if you allow," Wheeljack trailed off, his processors already designing new schematics pending their continued existence.

::You didn't have your battle computer online during the presentation fight did ya? Trusted optics to hit without targeting sensors to warn. Ain't I taught you better than that?:: Ironhide prodded on a separate command frequency.

::Hush you. Or I'll drop you back in the river:: Prime mock threatened.

::Like ya could youngling. Next training session be ready for an aft kicking :: Ironhide closed the comm line.

"If we allow them to remain functioning, what will you do?" Prime prodded.

"I will teach them manners and teach them our ways. Be there for them when they need somebot to listen or explain difficult situations while maturing. Offer comfort and love when they are hurt and rejoice with them when they are happy. Worry when they fight and welcome them home when they return. Offer guidance and hope they listen."

Prime deep vented, caught in a dilemma. The inventor spoke as though they were his sparklings and not a lab creation. And they had potential to become more, the very premise of Transformer existence. Whatever he would have asked next froze on his lip plates, the Matrix flaring to life. Ancient Cybertronian glyphs, the language of the Primes flowed across his vision. _"Team_" settled over the Dinobots as "_Accept"_ hovered over Wheeljack.

'_Why?' _The single question posed to the device to which he entrusted his life and the others. Trusting the accumulated wisdom of their entire race stored in it. And its link to the original Primes who guided their future._ "Why them?"_

Images flowed across his vision, as though snapshots of a scene out of time.

_A golden metal world devouring another planet. _

_Kup telling the Dinobots a story. Kup, the oldest living Wrecker who they had not heard from in vorns and even processed lost. His elite battle team still on Cybertron and infrequently in contact with Ultra Magnus. _

"He's still online," Prime mused, missing his former teacher.

_Grimlock as a T-Rex growling, a small orange and white youngling perched safely on his neck plates. Both challenging a round teeth filled attacker, backing him down to retreat among others of its rounded kind. _

_Grimlock walking around as a T-Rex wearing a giant human style apron and carrying a food tray. _

'So they do prove useful for more than battle.'

_Ultra Magnus and a mech he didn't recognize in red and yellow armor thanking them. "We could not have won this without your help." _

"_Let this mark the end of the Cybertronian wars as we march forward to a new age," the unknown mech spoke. _

The vision's meaning clear. Somewhere, somehow the Dinobots were yet needed.

'I will honor the wisdom you offer, and I have a feeling I will be seeking more of it in the future if they are what helps save our race.' The Matrix hummed in response; a feeling akin to satisfaction pouring off it.

As Prime went quiet and repairs began on the injured, the Dinobots conversed among themselves on a private team frequency.

::Me Grimlock like Wheeljack mech. Him be good parental bot:: Grimlock

::Me Slag like Ratchet parental femme. Angry fighter. She better:: Slag

::Me process you full of beryllium baloney. Both creators good. And how know which femme or mech?:: Sludge asked.

::Files say femme comfort, heal and take care of younglings. She does that for hurt bots:: Grimlock waved a stubby arm at Ratchet sealing a deep gash in Bluestreak's side.

::And others call Wheeljack him. They know. Me Slag learning:: Slag

::What they call us?:: Sludge

::Dinobots. Rest not important. We not come when called, we come fight:: Grimlock stated, initiating his transform to mech mode.

Bumblebee rolled in, letting Spike out. His transform sound nearly hiding a grinding gear sound, indicating injuries.

Prime regarded the young mech feeling a surge of pride and love for his bravery. Then he saw Wheeljack's optics, the wide center optics showing a trace of his fear. Fear his creations would be destroyed. A penalty worse than exile.

"Okay Optimus Prime, we admit we disobeyed your orders," Bumblebee admitted, a mature seriousness he often lacked now present.

"And whatever punishment you have in mind we deserve," Wheeljack braced.

"But face it Optimus Prime, if they had obeyed your orders you'd all be goners by now," Spike spoke up.

The aged leader hid a smile. He had been called both his name and his title by those he considered family more than soldiers. They had admitted guilt and showed a responsibility for their actions, an improvement for both mechs. And the human spoke up for his friends, pleading their case based on a life debt. That he could work with and remind them subtly he was still in charge.

"Indeed. Sometimes even the wisest of men and machines can be in error. I have no reprimand for Wheeljack or Bumblebee. But as for the Dinobots, they have proven their value. The Dinobots shall remain among us."

Cheering meet his announcement, the command explicit in in the words. 'And Primus help us all,' he processed.

::Are you off your processors?:: Ironhide sent to him alone.

::What would you have me do? Tackle them into submission, exile our best inventor leaving him vulnerable to attack and turn the humans against us?:: Prime countered, feeling tired and wanting to recharge. Reports would wait. Communicating with the Matrix drained his spark and injuries still pinged and ached.

::Those walking tin cans are going to be trouble. We can't turn them loose on this world and where they going to recharge and empty waste tanks? Not in our area!:: Ironhide grumbled.

:With their creator. He rarely uses his personal quarters to recharge and as our only neutral he has no roommates:: Prime countered, rolling a tight shoulder cog. The roughness jarred his sensors, creating a nasty burr resonance down the arm.

::How would you know that?:: Ironhide

::Ratchet's reports on his functioning every time he is rebuilt following a mishap and Prowl's complaints on him not following lab safety and recharging inside. Is this the orn for every bot to challenge me? I can hand over the Matrix and let another lead this crazy crew for the next thousand vorns:: Prime countered.

::Primus take my spark before that happens:: Ironhide

::Rest easy old friend. I do not plan on going anywhere. And what would the Well of Sparks be without us both there?:: Prime

::Quiet and peaceful no doubt. Until my Chromia arrived. Miss sparking with her. Chomping on her wires after she slams me down and gets grabby:: Ironhide trailed off, rumbling.

::TMI. Too much imagery there:: Prime chuckled, closing the comm line.

"I have a question."

"Yes Spike?"

"When they fly home, can I tag along ? A T-Rex jaw would be safely enclosed."

"Me Grimlock like snackies."

"GRIMLOCK!"

"Me kidding. Programming say protect tiny protoform ugly weakling, no eat."

"That's good to know, I think. Second thought, I will stay with my ride here."

Wheeljack patted Grimlock's leg as the others moved away, leaving Bumblebee and the human nearby. "You did good. And we have plans to make you even better."

"We do?"

"We do. Here it is." And the inventor outlined the idea. The other mechs waited their turn to be cleared by medical for the drive home and were beyond their talking range. The worse injured could ride in Prime's trailer once they retrieved it. Only one officer noticed the inventor and scout huddling.

"Secret meeting, I like those," Jazz quipped, startling them all by staring over Bumblebee's shoulder suddenly.

"As I was saying, the same way we saved Optimus. Space bridge in. Grab a handful of sparks, maybe a half dozen and return to earth."

"We only need three," the yellow scout reminded.

"Three for now. The Allspark creates sparks."

"The Allspark is gone. Blasted off into space to save it. Lost my Temple job that way dang it all," Jazz quipped, hiding the pain at seeing the large cube gone to protect it. His facial visor flashed deep blue with remembered emotions.

"But Vector Sigma remains. Almost a hundred sparks were stored with it over the vorns by the Allspark's creation when we didn't have enough shells to house them all."

"One problem," Bumblebee pointed out. "No bot knows where Vector Sigma is."

"Don't have to," the inventor's bars flashed blue green. "The Science division spare vault housed nearly two dozen uncored ones as a backup. We don't need fully functional mech adults, just sparks. Find the vault and we have our answer."

"Might work. I know these twin femmes back home," Jazz smirked. "Helped Prowl and I a few times. They are record archivists turned bomb tactical scouts. Cross their path and its game over. If anybot would know how to find what we need, they would."

"You would help us? Why?"

"My tribunal vote was undecided. Needed more information like any good Special Operations Officer. Sparks fit that definition nicely."

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: The Dinobots help save Cybertron when Unicron attacks. If they didn't stay functioning they could not have accompanied Prime when Megatron attacked Autobot City in the future. The Dinobots would not have left Autobot city with Kup and Hot Rod on the shuttle. The Dinobots with Wheelie helped find and save them from the Sharkticons on the Quintesson judgement world. They and Hot Rod left on a ship Wheelie knew about. They all went to fight Unicron, allowing Hot Rod to retrieve the Matrix and become Rodimus Prime and "light our darkest hour," to defeat Unicron and save Cybertron and the galaxy. _


End file.
